


The Evolution of Mrs. Robinson

by Sage8771



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Affairs, Alternate Universe, Angst, Cancer, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Health Issues, Jealous Negan (Walking Dead), Love Affair, Lucille deserves nice things, May/December Relationship, Multi, Negan Being Negan (Walking Dead), Older Woman/Younger Man, Sex & Love, Smut, Strong Female Characters, confident Carl Grimes, no zombies, remission
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-05-20 11:46:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19376080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sage8771/pseuds/Sage8771
Summary: After being physically and emotionally devastated by her husband's affair, Lucille embarks on a journey to self-discovery, battling cancer and loneliness as she starts a new chapter. When she meets an 18-year-old college student and freewheeling artist, her life and her sense of self changes forever, allowing her to become the woman she was always meant to be.





	1. Cold Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I'm starting ANOTHER fic, this time with a little May/December romance for Lucille, the most maligned woman in the Walking Dead universe...she deserves to be worshipped, damn it!

 

   He was late again.

   Lucille’s eyes darted between the clock on the dining room wall and her phone, waiting for a call, a text, or any sort of sign that he cared that she’d been sitting alone waiting for him. Her dinner sat untouched on her plate, a meal of pork chops, green beans, and rice pilaf. It was one of Negan’s favorites, yet it was cold, and she shoved her plate away, the sickness in her stomach making it too hard to digest.

   He was gone more than he was home, anymore, and she was left on the sidelines of his life, waiting. After fifteen years of marriage, she’d resigned herself to always being in the passenger’s seat where Negan was involved. He’d swept into her life when she was a sixteen-year-old bookworm, all beautiful and mysterious when he started his senior year, a transfer student from New York. She’d never seen anyone come into their school like he had, driving a motorcycle and wearing mirrored shades, the baddest of all bad boys.

   Every girl in her class was immediately in love, her included, though she knew with her glasses and straight, boring hair that he’d never look twice at her. Indeed, for the first six months, he squired numerous beauties to the movies and to football games, never spending more than a weekend with each. They lined the fence to cheer him when he won the pitching spot for the baseball team, taking them to the state championships, all while she sat on the bleachers with her best friend Carol, cheering silently and wishing she was pretty enough to be noticed.

   And then he failed Chemistry, and she still recalled to this very day the ruckus he caused in the science lab when he received his final grade. The number of cuss words that floated through the halls brought Principal Wilson flying out of his office, and as her schoolmates filed out for the summer while she dutifully cleaned out her locker, the door opened and Principal Wilson called her name, beckoning her over. Lucille was nervous as she clutched her papers to her chest, feeling like she was walking in sand, her steps halting and bashful.

   When she stepped into the lab, he was leaning against the blackboard, picking at his nails as Principal Wilson and Mister Garden stood together, talking lowly. He never even glanced up at her, and she stood just inside the doorway feeling like a fifth wheel.

   “You wanted to see me, Principal Wilson?”

   “Lucille, come in,” he said shortly, crooking his finger at her. “Have you met Negan?”

   “No, sir,” she stuttered, shrinking into herself as he glanced up, giving her the once-over, clearly unimpressed.

   “I have a request for you, Miss Fletcher,” Mr. Garden said, sounding apologetic. “Mr. Robinson here has failed his Chemistry class, and in order to graduate, he needs to take a summer class so that he can move on. I was hoping that you’d be willing to tutor him since you’ve maintained a 4.0 grade average since you started at this school. I’d be amenable to issuing you extra credit for your junior year, as I know you’d probably rather enjoy your summer.”

   “Um, I guess so,” she said, wondering if her parents would approve. Normally, she helped out at their grocery store for her breaks, but with the extra credit, it would go a long way towards her college applications, and Negan snorted behind her, making the back of her neck burn.

   “Work it out with her, Mr. Robinson, and a ‘thank you’ would go a long way,” Principal Wilson commanded, sweeping out of the room with a nod to her.

   “Thank you,” he said, the words dripping with sarcasm, and the older man stopped short, fixing him with a cold look. “Not to me. To _her_.”  
Panic began to set in as the teachers left, and she stood awkwardly, facing away from him, trying to get her breathing under control. A part of her was thrilled to be able to spend time with him and the other was terrified. Afraid of what he’d think of her and afraid of making herself look like a lovesick fool.

 

 

   Her phone beeped, interrupting her reveries, and she swiped the screen, seeing that it was a text from him, saying not to wait up. Her stomach plummeted, and she picked up the food and dishes, carrying them into the kitchen, setting them on the island. Their kitchen was sleek, all in black and chrome, with pristine white cabinets and top of the line appliances. In fact, their whole house was modern, done exactly the way that Negan liked it, and she worked to keep it looking perfect. It was beautiful, but not her style, though, in the end, it didn’t matter. They were just things, and it was the person that lived here with her that made it a home.

   But more often than not, she felt like she was alone. He’d always been very sociable, and as they grew together, she tried to make herself more outgoing. Negan was naturally the center of attention, and she was content to let him have the spotlight, standing off to the side while he shined. They were always symbiotic, she thought, a contrast that made them whole. Now, though, he felt like a different person, one that she had trouble recognizing and it scared her.

   Negan had been the focus of her world for twenty years, her adult life, and she could feel him slipping away. She’d never been comfortable with all of the attention he received from the opposite sex, and she tried to keep her insecurities under wraps. He’d told her constantly that he loved her, that she was the only woman for him, but lately, the loving words and gestures had trickled away, until it was merely a quick peck in the morning before they left for work and a ‘love ya’ before they went to bed, if they actually fell asleep together.

   Lucille didn’t know what to do. She worried that he might be having an affair, and when she’d summoned enough courage to broach the subject a few weeks ago, he acted like she’d shot him in the chest, clutching it and sucking in his breath.

   “How could you even ask me that, Lu?”

   “I’m sorry,” she’d apologized, her eyes welling with tears. “I just don’t know what to think, Negan. You’re gone all of the time and when you’re here, you’re not really here.”

   “So you automatically assume that I’m fucking cheating on you? Jesus Christ, Lucille. I’m up to my ass in work, filling vacancies, I’m coaching the team and we’re on the verge of making the playoffs, and my fucking rec league just lost our administrator.”

   “I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Negan.”

   “Look,” he said, cupping her cheeks as her heart lurched wildly. “Things are going to slow down, soon, and we’ll take a vacation or something. Just the two of us, okay?”

   He kissed her softly, lingering for a few seconds, and her brain accepted his rationale, even as he pulled away, walking up the steps to their room. By the time she shut off the lights and joined him, he was sound asleep, and she dressed for bed, the silk nightgown that she’d bought in a last-ditch attempt to please him laying at the bottom of her drawer, unused.

   Every day, she’d head to work, tired from tossing and turning throughout the night, banking on his promise that they’d get back to normal, but every day, the chasm grew between them, and she finally made an appointment with her doctor, hoping to discuss her looming depression. It wasn’t a secret that she’d put on a few pounds over the years, and even though she wasn’t technically overweight, Lucille just didn’t feel comfortable with herself physically. No doubt it was a contributing factor to their non-existent sex life, and she'd finally joined a gym, starting classes the following week.

   Doctor Lang gave her a workup and a script for Celebrex, sending her off for some bloodwork and a mammogram, and she filled the prescription, hiding it in her nightstand, never actually taking it but thinking that she would probably start soon.

   Once the food was put away, she went out to the back patio, gazing out over their backyard, contemplating taking a dip in the pool, but she couldn’t quite summon the energy to do it. As the night wore on, she finally shut out the lights and climbed into bed, staring at the window until she saw headlights sweep across the room, and she knew that he was home safe.

   Holding her breath, she heard him creep in, going immediately to the bathroom and turning on the shower, the urge to cry building, but she swallowed it down like she did almost every night, remaining still as he finally joined her in bed, their California king seeming so large that it was like he was sleeping in a different room. In the silence, she stayed facing away from him, her voice soft.

   “I left your dinner in the fridge.”

   She could hear him shift in bed. She could smell his body wash, but she couldn’t feel him, even from six inches away, and the sheets moved slightly. “I grabbed a burger after the game with Simon. I’m good, Lu.”

   It was all she could do to keep from fleeing the room with pills in hand, wanting to change everything about her life and who she'd become but not knowing how, and as she fell asleep, she could hear him snoring softly, the only constant in their bed anymore.

   The next morning, she woke first as she always did, tiptoeing into the bathroom to shower and get ready for work so that she didn't disturb him, and her phone vibrated as she put on her mascara, her hair neatly in a bun and her skirt and blouse pressed.

   “Hello?”

   “Mrs. Robinson? This is Deb at Dr. Lang’s office,” the pleasant voice said.

   “Is there something wrong?” she spoke quietly, retreating into the inner part of their closet, confused. Why would the doctor’s office be calling first thing in the morning?

   “Doctor Lang would like you to come back to the office this morning. We got your tests results back, and he’d like to go over a few things with you.”

   “Can you tell me what? I have a conference today-“

   “I’m sorry, but I can’t discuss it over the phone. Dr. Lang would like to see you as soon as possible.”

   A cold fist began squeezing her heart, crushing it, and she felt her legs getting shaky as she stared at Negan’s pristine white button-downs. Something was wrong and they didn’t want to tell her. Something bad. If it was good news, they’d just spit it out, and she struggled to vocalize as Deb waited for her to speak. “Mrs. Robinson?”

   “I’ll- I’ll be there at ten, if that’s all right,” she managed to say, her throat dry.

   “We’ll see you then.”

   The call disconnected, and she stood alone in the closet for a few minutes, not able to get her body to work, even as she knew she needed to move. For a split second, she pondered waking Negan up to ask him to go with her, but a tiny part of her mind warned her against it. If it was nothing, then he’d be upset that she made a big deal out of it, burning one of his personal days, and she slipped down the hall taking the steps carefully.

   When she reached the main floor, she went into the kitchen, starting his coffee for him and grabbing a pen and paper from the counter by the phone.

 

_Negan,_

_I’ve decided to take the day off and visit my sister in Baltimore. I’ll be back tomorrow. If you need anything, please call. There are leftovers in the fridge. I made your favorite last night._

 

_Love,_

_Lucille_

 

   Her hands were clammy and shaking when she stepped outside, going to her car and starting it up, glancing up at her bedroom window as she tried to put it in reverse, praying that everything was okay and that she’d be able to come home later and tell him the truth.

 


	2. Blood Red, True Blue

   Dr. Lang’s office was situated in the middle of Hyde Medical Park, one of over fifty doctors in a practice that included every specialty known to man. Negan had spoken to the doctor personally before agreeing for them to become patients of his, and when Lucille questioned him as to why it was such a big deal, he’d shrugged his shoulders, unconcerned. “He’s the best.”

   She didn’t really have an opinion either way, but over the years, she’d become quite fond of the man, who always had a smile for her and a gentle way about him. When she’d gone in to find out why she couldn’t get pregnant at age twenty-eight, he’d done a full medical workup, assuring her that her health was top notch. Of course, when she told her husband, he refused to believe that he was the problem, and the matter was dropped since she didn’t want to upset him. 

   As she opened the frosted glass door, the smell of hand sanitizer and ammonia greeted her, and she stepped around the first row of chairs, walking to the receptionist’s window on shaky legs. The ball-point pen was anchored to the shelf by a little chain, and she quickly wrote down her name, retreating to wait when the window slid open. 

   “Mrs. Robinson?” the girl asked, and she nodded faintly, feeling like the question was sprung on her. “Doctor’s waiting for you. Come on back.”

   The buzzer sounded, and she opened the door with slick palms, greeted by a nurse in blue scrubs who led her past the desk and around the corner to Dr. Lang’s office. She knocked once, and he told her to come in, standing and stretching as she eased her way into the small room. Six different diplomas lined the wall behind him, and he reached over the desk to shake her hand. “Long time, no see.”

   Since she’d been raised to be polite, she offered a smile, trying to mask the nervousness that had settled in her bones hours ago, and he gestured for her to take a seat as the nurse retreated from the room. “How are you feeling?”

   “A little nervous,” she admitted, setting her purse on her lap. The leather felt slick underneath her fingers, and she ran the tips of her nails along the grooves, anxiously waiting for him to tell her why she was here. “It’s not often I get calls like the one I received this morning.”

   “I’m sure, and it’s not meant to scare you, but I got the results of your blood test-“ _maybe she was pregnant?_ “along with your mammogram, and we need to do some further digging.”

   All hopes that she had for good news were dashed with those few words, and she struggled to maintain a calm façade as he watched her reaction. “What did it say? The tests?”

   “Well, the technician noticed a spot on your left breast, Lucille. It appears to be about two centimeters, and it’s…concerning.”

   She unconsciously lifted her hand, placing it over her heart, and he tried to offer her a reassuring smile. “Cancer? I have cancer?”

   “Well, as I said, it’s concerning. What we’re going to do is take some more blood to run a screen. It’s called a CA-125 test, and it looks for a protein in your blood that is indicative of certain types of cancers. I’ve already called over to Dr. Swan to set up a needle biopsy of the suspicious area. I know this is overwhelming, Lucille, but I assure you, whatever we find out for sure, I’m going to do everything in my power to see you through this.”

   He said something else, but the ringing in her ears had drowned it out, sounds of a woman crying breaking through, and she realized after a few seconds that it was her. He handed her a tissue before coming around the desk and sitting next to her, putting his arm over her shoulders. “Would you like me to call your husband? You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”

   “I- I’ll do it,” she whispered, fumbling for her phone as she continued to cry, unable to gain control of herself. The screen was blurry in her hand as her fear began to take over, and all she wanted was for him to come and take charge. Negan was strong. She wasn’t. He was able to handle everything. She wasn’t.

   The phone rang four times before going to voicemail, and she disconnected it, trying one more time but not getting an answer. There was no way she could leave a message in her current state, so she dialed the other number she knew by heart, dissolving into whimpers when the other line picked up. 

   It had to be a mistake. This couldn’t be happening.

   “Carol?”

 

 

 

 

   “A pound of turkey breast, shaved, a half-pound of Provolone, and a half-pound of yellow American.”

   The deli worker nodded, setting off to fetch her items, and Carol glanced at her watch, checking the time. The turkey and cheese were the last things she needed, and she was already twenty minutes behind on her schedule. She had a rare weekday off, and there were a hundred different things she needed to get done. The grocery shopping was one, and the next stop was to get her car's oil changed, well over the three-month mark. She still had to make the cupcakes for Sofia’s softball game and her laundry was sitting in the dryer waiting to be folded and put away.

   Sometimes she cursed being a single mother, with all the responsibility falling to her, but in the grand scheme of things, it always had, anyway. Ed had never lifted a single finger to help her, only using it to indicate when he wanted his beer refreshed. She’d taken it, along with his verbal and physical jabs until Sophia started to see and understand his temper. It was then that she realized the example that she was setting for her daughter, and Carol would be damned if her child was going to think that it was okay for a man to treat her like that. 

   It didn’t happen overnight. The gradual distancing came over the next few months as she confided in her best friend Lucille about what was going on in her home. The veiled threats. The hands that wrapped around her upper arms so tight that it left bruises. The slaps that promised more punishment to come over innocuous things like dinner being five minutes late. Lucille was aghast, of course. She’d only seen Ed as he presented himself to strangers and friends alike. He wasn’t the most handsome of men, but when he turned on the charm, there was an undeniable attractiveness there. 

   He owned a car dealership, gifted down from father to son, so their lives were reasonably comfortable. She’d never needed to work, though, in hindsight, it was just another way for that piece of shit to control her. Carol had been outgoing and headstrong when they met, but over the dozen or so years that they were together, he’d chipped away at it, leaving her meek and unsure of herself and her place in the world.

   Lucille was a rock, though. After the initial shock of finding out that her lifelong friend was in an abusive marriage, she’d begun looking for an apartment for Carol, renting it under her name and buying furniture and clothes for Carol and Sophia, all while Ed was unaware. Money for groceries that was carefully portioned out was stretched and hidden so she’d have something to live on. Photographs were taken of bruises and welts, and she once even got him on tape threatening her. All of it placed in a safe deposit box as she waited for her chance to get free.

   Her opportunity came over a long Memorial Day weekend when Ed left to take a fishing trip with some of the guys at the dealership. She’d stood in the window, watching him pull away in their only car, and after she’d counted to five hundred, she called Lucille to come and pick her and Sophia up. The entire time she waited for her savior to show, her heart was racing in her chest, terrified that Ed would come back and find out. He’d kill her for sure, not only for leaving him but for taking Sophia with her. 

   Even asshole Negan was supportive, installing a deadbolt on her apartment door and urging her to call him or Lucille any time, day or night if Ed showed up there. She normally loathed the man, thinking that he wasn’t good enough for Lucy, though once in a while, a human side of him bled through. 

   Their divorce and custody arrangements were hell on Earth, but when she walked out of the courthouse with her maiden name and supervised visits for her child, Carol Peletier was free. And she owed it to the one person who’d stood beside her since they were eight years old, never to be torn apart.

   As the clerk handed her the food, she thanked her, tossing it in her cart and heading towards the checkout, snagging a fruit bar for sustenance as she finished her errands. She’d just put the last item on the belt when her phone rang, and with a smile, she pressed the green button, frowning immediately when she heard Lucille’s gasping sobs.

   “Carol?”

   “Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

 

 

   Ninety seconds later, she fled the grocery store empty-handed, peeling out of the parking lot and driving to Hyde Medical Center with an aching heart and lips that moved silently, praying that everything was going to be okay.   
  
   The secretary waved her back as soon as she reached the window, asking about Lucille, and she followed the young woman to a Dr. Lang’s office, going immediately to her oldest friend and kneeling in front of her.

   “Luce?”

   “Carol-“ Lucille wrapped her arms around her, wetting her shoulder with tears as Carol looked up helplessly at the doctor. 

   “Lucille, I’ll give you a few minutes, and then I’ll have Linda walk you down to the procedure room.”

   She didn’t respond, but Carol gave the man a short nod, rubbing her back in small circles as the door closed, afraid and anxious to find out what was happening. “Talk to me, sweetie. What’s going on?”

   Carol Peletier wasn’t prepared for what followed, and she was speechless as the enormity of what she was told registered in her brain. It wasn’t possible. Lucille was only thirty-six years old. It had been a fluke that she’d even had the damned mammogram. Her age had been logged wrong, but like the angel she was, Lucille hadn’t spoken up to correct them, figuring that it wouldn’t hurt. And now, she was left in limbo as they scrambled to see if she had cancer.

   “It’s going to be all right,” she managed to say, sounding a hell of a lot more confident than she was. “First things first. Where the fuck is Negan? Why isn’t he here?”

   “I tried calling,” Lucille said, taking gasping breaths, “but he’s not answering his phone.”

   “I’ll call him,” she reached into Lucy’s purse to do it herself when she felt trembling fingers close around her wrist. 

   “Please don’t. I don’t want him to know until there’s something to tell. Can you…can you just stay with me?”

   The urge to argue was warring over the need to support her friend, and after an internal battle, she smiled and let go of the phone, rising to her feet. “You couldn’t kick me out if you tried.”

   “Thank you, Carol. Thank you for coming,” she tried to wipe her eyes, smearing her mascara, and Carol plucked a tissue off the desk, patting her face for her. “I’m so afraid.”

   “I know you are,” she took the seat next to Lucille, pulling her head onto her shoulder with a sigh. “You have every right to be, love. Hell, I’m scared, too. But whatever these results say, we’ll get through it. If you need chemo, you’ll get it. Whatever they have to do, we’ll do, and the best part of all is we’ll do it together. You’re not leaving me, sister. We’re in it for life, right?”

   Lucille shuddered but offered a small nod, and they sat embracing until the doctor came back in with his nurse, giving Carol a questioning look. Lucille was stronger than she knew, and the two of them held hands as they started towards the door, walking down an endless hallway to a white door that was marked ‘Procedure Room B’. 

   It was sterile and clean, all white with one picture of a dog sleeping on a bed, surrounded by pamphlets offering advice on a variety of ailments, from cancer to arthritis. Carol sat on the only available chair as Linda handed Lucille a hospital gown, asking her to strip off her bra and blouse, assuring them that the procedure would only take a few minutes. 

   While they waited, Lucille perched on the examining table and Carol on the chair next to her, she kept a firm grip on Lucy’s hand, each lost in their own thoughts. Carol was ruminating on whether or not she should call Negan anyway, feeling like he owed it to his wife to be there to support her. During the entirety of their marriage, Lucille was always the one making sacrifices, but she didn’t see it that way. She was just too sweet and caring to think that Negan was anything other than the greatest thing that ever happened to her. And it wasn’t like Carol had always hated him. She remembered seeing him for the first time in school, and she was as awed by him as everyone else was. But time had worn away her initial impression of him, and where she once saw an engaging, infallible man, she now only knew him as a selfish prick, too blind to see the gift that he was given. 

   Men went their whole lives looking for good women like Lucille, and he didn’t appreciate what he had. She was stunningly beautiful, and she didn’t see it. She was ridiculously smart, though she downplayed it, and her Lucy was genuinely nice. Like, ‘help you leave your abusive husband’ nice. Most people wouldn’t get involved, but she did, and she had so much to offer the world. She didn’t deserve this.

   The doctor returned, accompanied by another man who was pushing an ultrasound machine, and Carol placed her other hand protectively over Lucille’s as the men gave her a smile. “Okay, Lucille, this is Roger, our ultrasound tech, and he’s going to assist me. I decided to do the biopsy personally instead of having Dr. Swan take over.”

   Dr. Lang walked them through the steps, insisting that it was a common procedure. First, they numbed the left breast, injecting her with a clear liquid as Lucille laid back, a few wayward tears slipping out. As they waited for it to take effect, Roger set up the machine and Dr. Lang pulled a little table over with a bunch of instruments on it, including a scalpel and several needles, each looking like the size of a butcher’s knife to Carol.

   “I’m going to make an incision,” Dr. Lang told them as Roger draped her with a blue sheet, showing only the side of the breast, and once Lucille nodded, they located the spot that they needed to take a sample. The cut was small, and she didn’t feel it, but Carol winced anyway, seeing the thin line of blood as it appeared against Lucille’s pale skin.

   “This is going to feel odd, but it shouldn’t hurt,” he said, inserting one of the needles. As the two men verified the position, they heard a click and he retracted the plastic tubing. “I’m going to take one more sample, okay?”

   Lucy’s eyes were shut, but she nodded, and Carol gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, hearing the click one more time. “We’re all done. You did great,” he praised her after affixing a bandage, and Roger turned off the machine, exiting the room to give them privacy. “We’re going to send this over to the lab for pathology, and I’m going to have Linda draw more blood.”

   “What…what do you think? Does it look bad?”

   “I can’t tell you,” Dr. Lang said with a gentle smile. “Only the lab results can, but no matter what it says, we’ll have a plan, Lucille. It’s my intention for you to live a very long life, and I want this to be just a speedbump in your life.”

   Carol held her breath as she watched her friend absorb the statement, and in true Lucille fashion, she forced a smile to her lips, taking a deep breath as she prepared to face the news, no matter what the outcome. No one deserved a good life more, she was sure of that. 

   “Now, there may be some bruising after the fact, and the area will be tender for a few days. You can resume your normal activities in a day or so, and if the pain bothers you, take some Ibuprofen. But if there is any discharge or unbearable discomfort, I want you to call my service immediately.”

   “We will,” Carol spoke for Lucille, knowing her tendency to pretend everything was fine. “I’ll be keeping an eye on her.”

   Once Lucille got dressed, smoothing her hair back into place, the two followed Linda to the next destination, and Carol leaned against the wall with her arms crossed as the tech drew four vials of blood, holding a cotton swab to the area when he was done. Dr. Lang paid them one more visit, and he told them that they hoped to have the results within two to three days. “I’m putting a rush on it,” he promised them, and his face was serious. “I know the next few days are going to be rough, waiting for the results, but the second they land in my hand, I’ll call you so we can know one way or the other.”

   “Thank you, Dr. Lang,” Lucille extended her hand, and he shook it gently, like he was afraid she might break. 

   Carol guided her out with an arm firmly around her waist, and when they were buzzed out of the office, she led them out into the parking lot, hugging Lucille to her like she was going to disintegrate, suddenly terrified that it was going to be the last time she’d ever have the chance to do so.

   “Wanna go get shitfaced?”

   A cross between a laugh and a sob blew across her cheek, and Lucille shook in her arms, whispering only one word.

   “Yes.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carol is a fucking boss, and with her at Lucille's side, there's nothing they can't do... :)


	3. The Long Walk

_“You inverted Argon and Aluminum, and then Silver and Gold are in the wrong spots as well.”_

_Looking up, she saw that Negan wasn’t paying attention, staring out the window longingly as a convertible passed by, filled with girls from their school. They were probably heading to the lake, and she pushed her glasses further up her nose, the beginnings of irritation starting to bubble up. It wasn’t her choice to be stuck in the library on a beautiful day, trying to teach someone that had no interest in learning._

_As far as Negan was concerned, it was a waste of time, and after three weeks, he was on the verge of failing his makeup class as well._

_“Negan,” she tried again, and his eyes followed the car of girls, even as his head turned towards her._

_“What?”_

_“This Periodic Table is wrong. You need to fix at least six of these.”_

_“Can’t you just do it?” he huffed, looking down his nose at her. “If you write them in, I’ll pass, right?”_

_“I’m not doing your work for you,” her voice was soft but firm, and he glared at her, rolling his eyes. It only made her angry, and she slammed down the book, gathering her things. “I’m not the one that needs to pass, and I’m not a cheater, either.”_

_“Where are you going?” he called after her as she hurried away from the table, heading towards the door. “Hey, come back.”_

_Any other time she would’ve acquiesced to his orders, but she was upset and tired of trying to help him. Negan was indifferent at best, and her summer was slipping by, the chance to relax and enjoy herself fading with every day._

_He caught up to her as she stepped outside, taking her elbow and pulling her to a stop, and she blinked up at him, jerking her arm free and pushing up her glasses as he grinned at her. “I’m sorry, Laurie.”_

_“It’s Lucille,” she hissed, seeing red. “Geez, you can’t even get my name right after weeks of tutoring, you jerk.”_

_Turning on her heel, she started for her car, and he fell into step alongside her as she ignored him. “I’m done helping you. Go ahead and fail, or just cheat your way to graduation.”_

_“You wouldn’t do that to me,” he teased, not the least bit upset at her attitude. “You’re a nice girl, Lucille. Nice girls don’t leave guys in the lurch when their whole academic career counts on it.”_

_It made her stop in her tracks, and she poked him in the chest, wondering deep down where all this anger and bravado was coming from. Since she’d started meeting him at the library, the only thing she’d managed to talk to him about was science, and even then, it was difficult to string more than a sentence or two together._

_“Is this all a joke to you? Because it isn’t for me. I don’t mind helping someone out, but this is a waste of my time, and that’s not fair. Don’t you think I’d rather be with my friends, too?”_

_While she was talking, he reached up, plucking her glasses off her face, and she trailed off, both shocked and unsure of what to do next. His features blurred as her eyes unfocused, and he mumbled under his breath before handing them back to her. “Huh. You’re a little cutie, aren’t you? You wanna go out to dinner tonight?”_

_Did he just ask her out? Did she hear him correctly? Fumbling with her frames, she jammed them back on her face to see him wiggling his eyebrows at her, and her entire body turned red from head to toe. A few weeks ago, this would’ve been her dream, getting a chance to go out with him, but now, the thought made her feel sick, and she slapped him across the face, leaving him stunned as she hurried to her car, shaky and ready to cry._

 

 

 

 

   “Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?”

   Carol sat across from her in the restaurant, watching her carefully as she held the menu with trembling hands. Alcohol was the furthest thing from her mind. All she could think about was the needle that went into her skin, still feeling it, like it was stuck there. Somewhere in a little tube was the harbinger of her future, and she wasn’t sure how she was going to make it through the next few days.

   “No,” she said, shaking her head. The tears were threatening to make another appearance, and she was embarrassed, not wanting to make a scene in front of a bunch of strangers. How was she going to do this? How did anyone, when faced with something like this?

   “It’s going to be okay,” Carol said, taking her hand. “We’re going to get through this, you know.”

   “You can’t say that, Carol,” she shook her head, letting it drop slightly. “What if it’s so far gone that they can’t do anything? What if they just tell me to enjoy what little time I have?” 

   “Then we’ll get a second goddamned opinion, Lucy. There are always options. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you right now, but I know what it’s like for me, seeing one of the most important people in my life suffering, and I want to scream. I want to punch things, and I want to go stand at the laboratory and make them hurry up so that you know, one way or another, but we’re stuck right now. We have to wait, and we’ll research so we know what we’re getting into.”

   She had to tell Negan. This couldn’t be a secret, and she needed him. She needed him to tell her that no matter what, he’d still love her. That he’d still want her. He thought that she was in Baltimore, and though she’d tried to call him, getting no answer, he’d sent her a short text that he was in an all-day meeting, and he’d call her that evening. 

   Carol ordered them each a salad, and when it came, she pushed it back and forth on the plate, having no desire to eat anything. To appease her friend, she managed to consume a few bites, and the two of them lingered over iced tea, talking about anything and everything. Except for the fact that Lucille most likely had cancer.

   It was after three o’clock when they finally paid the bill, and she asked Carol to drive her home instead of taking her back to her car. She was too distracted and upset to drive, and she just wanted to wait for Negan to get off of work so that she could break the news to him. The sun was shining brightly as they drove through town, and she watched through the window as people went about their day. None of them had just had their worlds wrecked. None of them were told that they were sick. They were all walking their dogs and playing with their kids or holding hands with their partners, and it made her ache for the comfort that she needed from Negan. 

   As they turned down her street, her heart started to speed up, feeling like she was going to be sick, and that emotion increased as they got closer to her house, seeing Negan’s car in the drive, a little yellow hatchback parked behind it. 

   “What the fuck is he doing home?” Carol muttered, narrowing her eyes as she pulled in. “You said he was in a meeting all day.”

   “I…I don’t know,” her voice was breathy with fear, a warm feeling settling in her spine, snaking its way throughout her body. It was hard to swallow, and her brain told her to stop, to not go in the house, but Carol was watching her with hawk eyes. “Thank you.”

   “I’m not leaving, Lucy. Not until I know everything is all right.”

   “I’m sure it’s fine,” she lied, to herself and Carol, opening the door with halting movements. The hatchback was older, and there was a flowered lei hanging on the rearview mirror, a bumper sticker for UGA on the back. Maybe it was just one of Negan’s students, here for extra help, and she closed the door, willing Carol to leave, but she only cut the engine, and Lucille started to feel faint as she walked up the drive to the front door. 

   The main level was quiet and empty as she entered, her heart beating so quickly that it was making her dizzy. She opened her mouth to call out to Negan, but a soft moan made her gasp. It was coming from upstairs, and she gripped the banister, trying to summon up the courage to walk up. Whatever was happening up there was going to change her marriage forever, and she prayed that she was wrong, that she was imagining the sound. 

   The top step creaked quietly, and she froze, waiting to be discovered, but the moans only grew louder, and the hall to their bedroom stretched out in front of her like a funhouse. One, two, three steps. Four, five, six. The door to their room was open, and as she rested her clammy hands on the door frame her heart went from frantic beating to not working at all.

   Negan’s face was buried between another woman’s thighs. Her legs, tan and long were slung over his shoulder, and red nails gripped his hair. She wasn’t sure what the woman looked like, she was just peripherally aware that she had blonde hair and red lips. Her eyes kept going to the back of her husband’s head, those red nails dug deep into his scalp as the woman gyrated against his face. 

   The floor fell away and so did the walls, and she was hurtling towards nothingness as her world was shattered, unable to speak when his head finally lifted up, covered in someone else’s essence. She didn’t move when the girl finally noticed her, letting out a shriek and scrambling off the bed towards the bathroom. Lucille couldn’t stop staring as Negan turned white, getting to his feet and stripping a condom off of his erection, tossing it aside so that he could put his clothes back on. 

   “….Lucille?”

   Her name sounded like it had been spoken underwater, and she watched stupidly as he walked towards her, his mouthing moving non-stop, a barrage of unintelligible syllables. Her eyes unfocused, making him two adulterers, two cheaters instead of one. _Cheater_. He was always a cheater, she realized. He cheated in high school and he was cheating now. Maybe he’d never stopped, and it took him gripping her by the arm to shake her out of her trance. 

   “Lucille, honey, I can explain-“

   “Those were my good sheets,” she heard herself saying over him as she broke free from his grip, stumbling towards the steps. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to do this chapter short, because I wanted to get this horrible situation out of the way. Cheating and adultery aren't entertainment to me. It actually makes me feel gross, and I hate writing about it, but we need to get through it so Lucille can get to the next phase of her life.


	4. Test My Patients

   The door to Negan and Lucille’s house opened up, and Carol hoped to God that it was Lucy, coming out to tell her that everything was fine, though she knew that the chances were slim to none. Nothing good ever came from coming home early and finding a strange car in the drive. So, it wasn’t a total shock to see a young girl stumble out carrying a bra, her shoes, and a purse. The blonde was crying as Carol climbed out of her car, and she sped up her steps as the girl reached her car, fumbling for her keys as a black square hit the ground.

   Carol bent over, picking it up, and she nearly lost it when she figured out what it was. “You dropped one of your condoms, honey,” she said in a cold voice, flicking it at the woman as she tried to unlock her car.

   “I’m sorry,” she said, falling into her seat as the rest of her purse spilled on the ground. “I- I didn’t know-“

   “You didn’t know he was married?” If this was any other situation, she might have sympathy for the girl, who couldn’t have been more than twenty. Carol herself was young and stupid once, and Negan had probably wined and dined this idiot. “Did the pictures of the two of them throughout the house escape your attention, sweetie?”

   “He said he was getting divorced,” she sniffled, reaching down to grab her lipstick. “I didn’t-“

   “And the fact that he's wearing his fucking ring?”

   The girl shrank back into the car, slamming her door, leaving the rest of her belongings behind as she started the engine, nearly sideswiping Carol’s Honda as she got the hell out of Dodge. As soon as she resumed her trek towards the house, the blonde was promptly shuttled away in her mind, Lucille her only focus. After everything she’d been through today, to have to come home and find out her husband was a fucking asshole…

   The door was still open, and Carol walked in without saying a word, following the sound of retching towards the kitchen, stopping short when she saw Lucille bent over the sink, throwing up. Negan was standing next to her, reaching out to touch her back when Carol raced over, shoving him out of the way. He was a big guy, but her adrenaline was maxed out, and he went stumbling back into the island with a grunt.

   “Don’t fucking touch her you piece of shit,” she swore, placing a protective hand on Lucille’s back.

   “Lu, please,” he said, starting towards her again, and Carol planted her feet between them looking at him with such hatred that he halted immediately. “It was a mistake. A stupid fucking mistake. I’m sorry.”

   Lucille let out a moan, and Carol’s heart nearly broke in two at the sound. She loved Negan so much that it was possible this betrayal would put her in the hospital, and she was already fucking sick. “I always knew you were an asshole, but this is a new level, even for you.”

   “Carol, just fucking leave. This is between us. Lu, I’ll fix this, I swear. I love you.”

   “You don’t love anybody but your goddamned self, Negan. You never have.”

   “Carol,” Lucille coughed, getting her attention, and she turned on the water, softly splashing Lucy’s face and mouth to rid it of the bile that had come up. When she was clean, Carol handed her a paper towel, helping her to straighten up while Negan hovered closer, smelling of perfume.

   “Lucy, I’m taking you with me,” she said, seeing unadulterated shock and sadness in brown eyes that stared back at her. “Go sit in the living room. I’m going upstairs to get some stuff for you.”

   Taking her by the hand, Carol steered her around Negan, elbowing him out of the way and setting her on the sleek black leather couch, making sure she was steady before taking off up the steps. It was a gamble, leaving her alone where Negan could try to plead his case, but knowing Lucille all of her life, Carol knew that she’d shut down inside.

   The trauma of walking in and finding him in the home that she cared for with another woman was enough to make her nearly catatonic. Her adult life had been wrapped up in that asshole, and to find out that it wasn’t reciprocated was unfathomable.

   Their bedroom smelled like a whorehouse, the scent of sex and another woman hanging in the air like a cloud, and Carol gagged as she walked towards the bathroom, trying not to look at the condom lying on the carpet and the wet spots on the sheets. The closet was filled, more with Negan’s clothes than Lucille’s, and she pushed his shit out of the way to find a bag, not caring when some of it fell off the hanger, ending up in a heap on the floor.

   A couple of shirts and pants, her toiletries and makeup went in as well, and she went over to the dresser that she’d seen Lucille paw around, pulling out some bras and underwear and stuffing them on top, wanting to get her out of the house. Anything else, they could make arrangements to get, and she wasn’t proud to say that she spit on Negan’s pillow. At least, she hoped it was his.

   As expected, Negan was kneeling down in front of her lax face, still trying to get through to her. “Lucy, I’m begging you, don’t leave. We need to work this out. Please, baby.”

   When Carol got into her eye line, Lucille reached out to her with a pleading look, and she held out her hand, grasping fingers that were cold and shaking. “Come on, Luce. Let’s go.”

   She stood up, holding onto Carol like a lifeline, and they started for the door, Negan trailing behind them. “Don’t leave, Lu. We have to talk. I want to explain-“

   “Negan, shut the fuck up,” Carol said through clenched teeth, dragging the bag and her friend through the open door. Lucille started to cry as they passed by the tube of lipstick and condom, and she forcefully led her back to the car, setting her in the passenger’s seat and tossing the bag in the back. When she turned around, her head bounced off of Negan’s chest, and she reeled back, glaring at him. “You fucking stink like ‘college girl’, you asswipe. Take a fucking shower. Wash your soul.”

   He ignored her, resting his hands on the glass, still begging Lucille not to leave, and Carol jumped in the car, starting it as he continued to try to persuade her to stay.

   “Lucille, please. Don’t do this. Lucille! Lucille!”

   Lucy let out a cry, shutting her eyes and covering her ears as Carol put the car into reverse, and he starting moving with them, resorting to banging on her window. “Lucille!”

   It was like something out of an over the top melodrama, and Carol backed into the street, watching grimly as he stood in the driveway, hands in the air as they drove away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

   “Lucille, honey. It’s time to get up.”

  The light filtered in from the hallway, illuminating the spare bedroom that had become her haven over the last several days. The area was homey, with a white bedspread dotted with roses, matching curtains and a soft cream rug that masked the coolness of the hardwood floor. A white, overstuffed chair sat in the corner near the window, and Lucille had spent many hours sitting and staring out at the quiet street. It was better than laying in the bed looking up at the ceiling, trying not to shut her eyes, because every time she did, all she could see was Negan between that girl’s legs.

   Cherie, her name was, a student in his American History class. Twenty years old, the blonde had been carrying on an affair with her husband for over a month. While Lucille sat at home waiting for him, thinking that he’d been at baseball games or out with Simon, he’d been sleeping with her, and she was numb. Working in the admission’s office had been false security for her, making her feel like she was more involved with his life, he’d somehow managed to find other lovers throughout their marriage, as she was now aware.

   Carol had done some digging at her request and uncovered at least five other co-eds that he’d slept with, sending her into her room, refusing to see anyone or eat for over twenty-four hours. Somehow, her health woes had taken a backseat to the disintegration of the rest of her life. Negan had destroyed her, and he was still trying to undo the damage he’d done.

   Since she’d left their house, he’d tried at least twice to come into Carol’s apartment to see her, and the calls occurred day and night. Lucille had refused to answer them or to even listen to the voicemails he’d left her, and she’d made arrangements to take a leave of absence from her job, unable to face anyone in the aftermath of his betrayal.

   Thankfully, since she never really took time off, she had an abundance of personal time, and her boss, Maria, was both understanding and discreet. Lucille had asked her in confidence not to tell Negan anything about where she was or why she was on sabbatical, and the woman agreed immediately, wishing her well and reminding her to keep them updated on when she’d return.

   The day before, as she sat unwashed and immobile, her phone rang, and she answered it with a froggy voice, her eyes closing as Linda, the nurse from Dr. Lang’s office identified herself. “Mrs. Robinson? This is Linda. Dr. Lang has your test results, and he’d like you to come in first thing.”

   “Okay.”

   It was all she could manage to convey, hanging up the phone and staring at it listlessly. She was a scorned woman, and she was likely dying. Carol had heard her ringtone, a simple bell tone and come into her room, perching on the bed. “Who was that, sweetie?”

   “Dr. Lang’s office,” she shrugged. “My results are in. He wants me there first thing in the morning.”

   “Okay,” Carol said, sounding resolute. “That’s that, then. No sense brooding over it, Luce. Come and have dinner with me and Sophia.”

   “I’m not hungry.”

   “Tough shit,” she replied, making Lucille blink in surprise. There was a hard cadence to her voice, and she watched like a bystander as Carol pulled her upright, not gently, either. “You’re not going to waste away in this room. I won’t allow it.”

   “Leave me alone,” she jerked her arms free, trying to slink down to the floor, and Carol smacked her on the cheek, stunning her. It wasn’t hard or painful, but it made her eyes widen in surprise and anger.

   “You’re husband’s an asshole. Welcome to the fucking club, Lucille. That’s not an excuse to give up.”

   She stumbled back, hitting the wall as a torrent of swear words came flowing out of her mouth, and she hardly ever swore. “You have no fucking idea what I’m going through, Carol. My life as I knew it is over, and that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like that. I’m fucking dying. Don’t you get it? Even if my results are negative, I’m still dying. I-“ she started to hyperventilate, sucking gasping breaths through her mouth as Carol seemed unmoved. “He’s all I’ve ever known. I love him, and- and- and now…”

   Lucille started to sob, the realization that she was mortally wounded by the only man she’d ever loved hitting her like a gunshot to the chest, and she hit the ground in a heap, curling up on her side. Carol watched her for a moment, and with a sigh, she got down next to her, pulling her head onto her lap and brushing her unkempt hair away from her face.

   “Do you want to go home, Lucy? I won’t think less of you if you do.”

   She didn’t answer, contemplating it. Her life was so entwined with his, and it made sense to work things out. He was probably truly remorseful, and maybe he deserved a second chance. After all, they’d been together for two decades, and everything she’d ever experienced in her adult life involved him.

   Closing her eyes, she searched her heart, but all she could see was him between Cherie’s legs, and she shuddered, goosebumps forming on her arms. “No.”

   “Then you have to get yourself together, love. I’m not saying that you can’t mourn the life you thought you had. God knows I did. But Negan doesn’t define you or your future, Luce. It doesn’t have to be the end of your hope. Besides,” she smiled down, wiping away a tear. “You have me and Sofia, and we need you. We love you.”

   The proclamation gave her enough energy to sit up, and with a helping hand from the only person in the world she could truly trust besides her actual sister, Lucille padded out to the dining room, lost in her own head as they ate. Sophia, knowing that something was going on but not exactly what, was subdued, excusing herself as soon as her plate was clean, retreating back to her room to talk to her friends. At fifteen, she was a beautiful young girl, and Lucille had always envied Carol in that respect. Ed Peletier had been a monster of a man, but their daughter was an amazing human being.

   Children were never going to be a reality for her, but she took joy in watching Carol’s daughter thrive after the chaotic childhood she’d been born into. If Sophia could thrive under new circumstances, then Lucille could, too. That feeling only lasted until she was alone in her room again, and as the night faded into daylight, she was forced to relive her pain once again.

   Now, the second guillotine that was hanging over her head loomed large, and she showered, dressing in a black blouse and skirt, forgoing any makeup and putting her hair in a simple bun. Carol was waiting by the door for her, and she smiled, clapping her hands together. “You ready to tackle this shit head on?”

   Carol’s can-do attitude brought a small smile to her face, and she nodded faintly. They walked out of the apartment together, and she sat in the car with her hands twisted together, staring straight ahead.

 

 

 

   “Mrs. Robinson?”

   The secretary called out the window, making her stomach drop, and Lucille rose from her chair with Carol offering her a supportive shoulder to lean on, literally. They were shown back to Dr. Lang’s office, a trek that she was beginning to know well, and he welcomed them in, rising from his seat to shake both ladies’ hands.

   “Thank you for coming so early, Lucille. I know the wait has been hard, but we have your biopsy and blood results back.”

   “Yes.”

   “You do have breast cancer,” he told her, opening her file as she stared at him. She’d known, deep down, but hearing out loud confirmed it. She was dying. “Your CA-125 level suggests that it hasn’t metastasized, which is good news. After consulting with our oncologist, Dr. Lerman, it appears to be at Stage Two. Two B, specifically.”

   He continued to speak as she digested the news, and when he finished, he offered her a confident smile. “Dr. Lerman is going to see you today so that we can get your treatment plan finalized. Even though things seem overwhelming and uncertain, Lucille, the prognosis is good.”

   Carol asked a few questions about treatment options, and Lucille half-listened, her gaze falling to the paper that sat in front of him. She couldn’t read any of it, but she’d rather stare at it than face whatever lay ahead. Surgeries, chemotherapy, and radiation. She heard all of those words, even as she zoned out, and when it came time to stand up, she vomited on Dr. Lang’s floor, offering up a whispered apology.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Carol is a superstar for keeping Lucy from giving up. Let me know if you want to see another interaction with Lucille and Negan. 😡


	5. Flush It All Away

   “Call me when you’re ready to be picked up.”

   “I will. ‘Bye, mom.”

   Carol blew a kiss in Sophia’s direction as her daughter opened the car door, water, and lunch in hand. She’d spent all summer working at the Y as a camp counselor, and as she started towards the door, she was swarmed by kids, their mouths and hands moving excitedly as they headed in to celebrate their last day of the season. School would be resuming in a week, and Carol couldn’t be prouder of how much responsibility she’d handled. Every weekday she worked at the Y until four o’clock before heading across the street to the school for softball practice. 

   Sophia wanted to play travel ball well into the fall, and she used the money from her job for all of the extra expenses over Carol’s objections. “This is my thing, mom,” she’d told her. “I want the best equipment.”

   She’d offered her plenty of money, Ed’s child support having gone into a savings account every month untouched, but the girl was like her, wanting to make her own way, and truthfully, given her full schedule, it gave Carol one less thing to worry about. 

   As the gaggle of youths disappeared into the building, she pulled out her phone to text Negan, bracing herself for a shitty reaction and he delivered, just like she knew he would.  


    _-I need to stop over to pick up the last of Lucille’s things._

 

   Less than a minute later she got a short and sweet reply.

 

    **The key is under the mat. Get in and get the fuck out.**

 

   “Asshole.”

   After waiting for a battered station wagon to drive past, Carol pulled away from the entrance, chewing on her lip as she drove away from Sophia towards Candlewood Drive, her mind filled with the million things she had to get done. Their cupboards were looking pretty bare, and she needed to meet with her boss, Valerie about getting her days switched so she could attend more of Sophia’s games, and on top of that, she had to refill Lucille’s prescriptions. 

   Her days and nights were non-stop, and hopefully soon she’d get a chance to relax and breathe. All her life, she’d been a caretaker. It was her nature, and she embraced it, but it wore her down sometimes. Ed had never lifted a finger to make her life easier, and her parents were gone. She had no brothers and sisters, and other than Lucille, she’d always worked hard to make it on her own. Caring for her best friend was a blessing, something she’d happily do, but it didn’t mean she didn’t have a childish wish for someone to come along and sweep her off her feet.

   Lost in her head, she almost passed the driveway, slamming on the brakes and performing a racecar driver maneuver, coming to a stop just inches from the bushes that lined one side of the driveway. The garage door was down, and she lifted up the welcome mat, finding the house key where Negan said it would be. All that was left to pick up were a few boxes of mementos, mostly stuff from her childhood that had been in the basement and a handful of winter clothes totes. 

   Lucille had told her that they would all be downstairs, and Carol had planned on just getting in and out, but when she opened the door, the was assaulted by the smell of stale food and cigarette smoke. There were shoes scattered by the front entrance and dress shirts hanging on the bannister. Apparently, Negan hadn’t been keeping up with the housekeeping, and she passed by the filth to walk through the living room, finding even more crap lying around.

   Empty wine glasses with lipstick stains on them. Scattered beer bottles and an ashtray full of butts. A few ties, and a stain on the white chair. He was a disgusting pig, and he’d obviously mourned the end of his marriage for less than a minute. 

   The entrance to the basement was through the kitchen, and she bypassed piles of dirty dishes, going down the steps to the finished area. Negan had made it his man cave, and once again, she was struck by the sheer selfishness that she saw. Exercise equipment, a full bar, and giant television. There were sports memorabilia all over the walls, and a part of her was pissed because Lucille just let him run wild. She’d let herself become a doormat over the years, and she stomped through the room towards the door on the other side. 

   Lucille’s things were stored in the unfinished part, where the washer and dryer was, and she picked up the first box, carrying it over to the steps before dragging the totes to the base as well. It took four trips to get it to her car, and the backseat was stuffed full when she went back for the final box. As she carried it through the kitchen, a manila envelope tossed onto the floor in the general vicinity of the trash can caught her eye. 

   Curiosity got the better of her, and she set the box on the counter, bending over and picking up the crumpled paper, her heart dropping when she saw what it was. Fuck, this wasn’t good, and Carol tossed it back onto the tiled floor, taking Lucille’s box and hurrying to the car. As soon as she set it on the passenger’s seat, she dialed Lucy's number, but it went straight to voicemail. A bad feeling was starting in her gut, and she blew off the rest of her chores except for the prescriptions, going as fast as she could to get home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_She stood there, rooted to the spot as she watched him flick his hips back and forth, his shaft disappearing and reappearing like magic. Over and over, he thrust himself into  Maria’s body, the two of them groaning in unison, a combined sound that penetrated her brain like a bullet, and she still couldn’t move._

_“So fucking good,” he growled, lifting her legs and setting her heels on his shoulders, running the tips of his fingers down the back of her thighs as she tweaked her nipples, staring up at him with desire and want. They were writhing, a mass of sex and lust, and Lucille watched, her feet and legs disappearing into the carpet, making her smaller and smaller._

_When Negan came, he hunched over Maria’s body, kissing her with a sloppy tongue, marking her possessively with his teeth. Her husband and her boss. Maria faded away and Carol took her place, the whole charade starting over again, and she was helpless, her knees and thighs sinking down into the white fibers._

_Please stop. Just make it stop._

_Her heart was pounding, mixing in with the moans, and when he orgasmed again, he arched his back, Carol dragging her nails down his abdomen, reaching between her legs to coat her fingers in his essence, licking it like it was frosting._

_A small whimper escaped her throat and he turned around, startled. The duo peered at him like curious animals, and her hips were gone._

_“Well, aren’t you a cutie?” Negan smiled, naked and dripping with juices as he walked toward her, bending down. “We should go to dinner tonight.”_

_The pounding in her heart got louder, and he looked around for the sound, shrugging when he couldn’t pinpoint the cause, cocking his head to the side. Her chest was constricted by the floor, and she started to panic as he reached his hand out to her. “What do you say?”_

_Lucille swung her arm out, the palm of her right hand connecting with his cheek, and the slap freed her. She was standing whole and safe on the carpet as he looked up at her with a red face, and she kicked him, sending him sprawling back into the bed._

_The fear and sadness were gone. All that was left was sickness and anger, and she turned her back on him, walking towards the blackness beyond the door to their room, her feet keeping time with the pounding sound._

_“No,” she said. “Never again.”_

 

 

  
   Lucille’s eyes opened, her palm still warm, and she glanced down to see her phone in her hand, the screen lit up as the pounding continued. Confusion weighed on her as she tried to get her bearings, and she sat up, feeling nauseous.

   “Lucille! Open this goddamned door or I’ll break it down!”

   Pressing the home button, she saw that she had ten missed calls from Carol, and she ignored Negan’s bellows to call her friend. Carol answered on the first ring, and she sounded like she’d been running, out of breath.

   “Lucy, I’m on my way. Negan knows-“

   “I know,” she cut in, her voice raw and scratchy. “He’s at the door.”

   “Don’t you answer. Leave that prick outside and I’ll call the police.”

   “I can’t hide forever, Carol.”

   “You don’t need this right now,” she shrieked, sounding like she was on the verge of tears, but Lucille was as calm as she would get, the false confidence from her dream giving her enough energy to get out of the bed, even though her vision shifted. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

   “It’s okay,” she said, following the irate sounds down the hall towards the front door, pressing the disconnect button as she kept herself steady with the wall. 

   “I’ll stay out here all fucking day, Lu.”

   This was a long time coming, she knew. She wasn’t going to be able to avoid seeing him forever, and she reached for the lock with unsteady movements, shuffling back towards her room as soon as she turned the knob. The door opened when she was around the corner, and Lucille crawled back into the bed, covering herself with the blanket, shutting her eyes. 

   Negan stomped down the hall, thankfully leaving the light off, giving her some cover of darkness as he stood in the doorway, breathing heavily. 

   “After twenty fucking years, you don’t even have the decency to tell me face to face. I have to come home to find a process server in the goddamned driveway, handing me divorce papers in front of our neighbors? That’s fucking low, even for you.”

   The old Lucille would shrink under his anger, apologizing and teary, but this Lucille, the tired and broken one, merely laid there staring at the window as he ranted and raved. 

   “I don’t need this shit right now, Lu. I’m already hanging on by a thread at work since the goddamned president of the university found out what happened, and you can’t be bothered to show up to do your job-“

   “Just sign the papers, Negan, and we can be done,” she murmured, cutting him off. New, tired Lucille didn’t have the energy for his hurt feelings, and she felt a shiver as he advanced, coming around the bed to her side. 

   “This is bullshit. I get that I fucked up, but you’re not giving me a chance to make it right,” he snapped, still holding the divorce decree. Like his typical self, he didn’t see her, not even when she was a foot away from him, and the nausea started to increase. 

   Always the nausea, and she pushed him out of the way, taking slow steps as his voice faded. The bathroom was across the hall, and she dropped to the ground in the dark, vomiting into the toilet. As she retched and hunched over, the light went on, and she heard him gasp, her face turned into the bowl. 

   “Lu?”

   Now he knew, and she reached blindly to flush away the sick, feeling the top of her head with her other hand to make sure her scarf was in place. The hair loss wasn’t total, but she still felt self-conscious about the bald patches, a side effect that she’d prayed she didn’t get. The fatigue was manageable, and so was the pain and nausea. But her hair, her thick, black hair was was no longer her defining feature, and she spit one more time before turning her tired eyes towards his.

   Negan looked shellshocked, standing there with his mouth hanging open and his hands curled up on themselves like claws. “Lu?” All she could hear was fear, and she scooted back to rest her spine against the cool tub, swiping a wrist over her mouth. “You’re…you’re sick?”

   “Yes.”

   He took a tentative step forward, letting the papers drift to the floor, and she watched him warily as every emotion known to man passed across his face and through his eyes. Mostly, it was fear, and she shifted when he reached out to touch her dangling fingers, now free of her wedding band. For months, she’d been able to communicate with him through text and messages passed through a third party, and now that they were face to face, she waited for that longing that she thought she’d feel for him. 

   All her brain could do was judge him analytically, like he was a stranger, and in a way, she supposed he was. This wasn’t the Negan that she fell in love with at sixteen years old. He looked older and less inviting for some reason, and possibly, the radiation and removal of her womanhood also extracted any lingering feelings for him. It was a curious relief, and she thought that maybe she was starting to feel a little better, the need to retch abated for a few minutes, at least. 

   “Are…are you…”

   “I have breast cancer,” she told him, watching as the news hit him full force, and he started to hyperventilate, this time taking her hand and holding it to his cheek. His skin was warm and soft, and for a split second, her heart reconnected with him, and that warmth filled her palm again. But just as quickly, it turned into a searing slap, and he rocked backward from the impact. “I found out that I was sick the day I came home to you-“

   “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Lu,” he started to babble, tears welling up and spilling down his cheeks, getting caught in his fledgling beard. “Please forgive me. Just come home and I’ll take care of you. I’ll do anything, baby. I love you so much, and I can’t-“ 

   The words caught in his throat, and she tiredly got to her feet, stepping around him to walk back to her bed. She kept mouth rinse on her nightstand to help with the dry mouth and sores, and she swished it around, spitting it into the basin to get rid of later, just wanting to lay flat for a few seconds. 

   Negan came back in when she heard the front door slam, and Carol looked livid, her cheeks streaked with red and holding a bag of pills. “Get the fuck out of my house,” she ordered, pointing towards the door. “How dare you show up here, harassing her.”

   “How could you not tell me, Carol? No matter what was going on, I have the right to know.”

   Carol sneered at him as Lucille watched impassively, knowing that Negan was going to take his anger out on Carol since he couldn’t direct it at her. Carol was more than capable of standing up for herself, and she squared her shoulders, getting into his face. 

   “She didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to know,” Lucille interjected, getting their attention. She could see pride and concern in Carol’s eyes, and Lucy reached for the bag of pills, dumping them onto the bed as Negan’s gaze drifted down to the cocktail of medication. Without looking, she grabbed the small, squat plastic container, opening it and plucking out a pain pill, and she placed it on her tongue before sipping at the water that she had next to her. “Our lives together ended when I walked out of the house, Negan. I don’t need your pity.”

   “I love you, Lucille,” he took a step forward, and she shut her eyes, turning on her side to face away from him. He did love her, she knew, but his kind of love was toxic, worse than the cancer and radiation that pumped through her body, and it was time to get better. She had to leave it all behind if she wanted to live, and for the first time in months, she truly did. 

   “If you love me, then sign the papers.”

   She heard a shaky whimper, a few footsteps, and then silence, the creak of her door closing and shutting, and Lucille Robinson fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of a meadow, a puppy, and the warmth of the sun on her palms as she lay back on a blue blanket, at peace.


	6. Ooh La La

   A knock at the door startled her, and Lucille rose from her dressing table, a bundle of nerves. She wasn’t really sure why she was so anxious, but she walked to the door, opening it to find Carol smiling, and she gave Lucy a thumbs up, taking in her appearance.

   “You look like a million bucks, girl.”

   Flushing, Lucille waved her in, apologizing for the boxes that were still left to unpack. Even though she’d been in the house for a few weeks, there were still a few decorations that she wasn’t sure what to do with. They’d come from her home with Negan, and she wasn’t sold on keeping them. The décor there wasn’t really her style, and she glanced at the decidedly more casual atmosphere which was becoming more comfortable to her by the day. 

   This was the first holiday season in her adult life that wouldn’t be spent with Negan, and she was adrift in an ocean of both apathy and sadness. Their divorce was stalled because he refused to sign the papers, and she hadn’t had the energy to fight him, too consumed with her health. After weeks of chemotherapy and radiation, she’d been given a clean bill of health for the time being, but she didn’t feel…cured. Countless blood tests and follow-ups were in her near future, and she constantly waited for someone to call and tell her that they’d made a mistake, that she was close to dying.

   In part, it would be a relief, an end to the pain of the last several months. Years, really. All spent cocooning herself inside Negan, afraid to be anything but what he wanted her to be. She lost herself long ago, and present-day Lucille had no idea who she really was or what she wanted. She was afraid to live, and terrified that she couldn’t survive without him, but Carol refused to let her wallow any longer. 

   Now that she’d been given the green light to continue on with her existence, she was accompanying Carol to her first night out as a single woman. She’d told Lucy about a paint and sip that was held on Thursday nights at a local restaurant, and it was promised to be fun. 

   Losing quite a bit of hair to chemo, Lucille had settled on a shorter style, a bob that just brushed her shoulders, and though it was thinner than it used to be, she no longer had bald patches, so that was good. The extra weight that she had built up over time due to personal neglect was gone, and her breast reconstruction had left her with an hourglass figure and the boobs of a twenty-three-year-old according to Carol. She’d chosen a plain blue dress, black hose, and knee-length black boots, hoping that she didn’t look too out of place at this thing. 

   As for Carol, she was a vision in green, a long-sleeved wrap dress, and brown boots, her hair swept over her forehead and bright smile making her look luminous. No one could ever have a better friend than her, and she hastily put on her coat, accompanying the other woman down to her car, fighting off the winter chill that surrounded them.

   The paint and sip was packed when they arrived, snagging the last two seats in the banquet room, and Lucille looked around, feeling very foolish. They were by far the oldest women there, surrounded by girls that were half their age or not too much older. “Are you sure this is for everyone?” she asked, whispering in Carol’s ear. “These girls don’t even look old enough to drink.”

   “Yes. It was advertised at the college for anyone, any age.”

   “The college? Where?”

   “On the bulletin board outside the admissions office. I saw it when we were packing up your desk.”

   She’d quit her job after fifteen years, and with her small savings that she’d built up with personal time and the fact that her checks had always gone into her savings account, it bought her time to figure out what she wanted to do next. Staying at the university was never an option, not while Negan was still there. Like usual, he’d managed to avoid any real consequences for his numerous affairs with what felt like half the student body, at least professionally. Though he still tried to get her to come home, he knew deep down that it was over. The only time she would respond to him was to ask when he was signing the papers.

   Lucille looked around as she set her purse on the ground next to her chair. The tables were arranged in a square formation, and each spot had a set of brushes, an easel and canvas, and bottles of paint. Girls chattered excitedly as a young guy came walking in with a waiter, and she found herself smiling back as he greeted her along with everyone else. 

   The teacher couldn’t be more than eighteen or nineteen, and he was of medium height, with brown hair and eyes the color of wet slate. He had an easygoing way about him, and he was dressed in a denim shirt and black pants, completely oblivious to the heated stares from every teenage girl in the room.

   “Good evening, ladies,” he said as a collective sigh sounded from across the table, setting down a leather bag. “Welcome to my class.”

   “Waiter,” Carol called, garnering his attention. “Two glasses of white wine, please.”

   The man nodded, returning a moment later with their drinks, while the other females had either water or pop, and Lucille sat up straighter as the young man walked around the tables, collecting the money for the class. As their fingers brushed together, Lucille felt a flush of unease at the way the guy eyed her, his gaze drifting down to her fingers as opposed to her chest, and she could feel Carol watching them with wide eyes. 

   Just like that, the moment was over, and he moved on, setting the money in his bag and then clapping his hands together. “Okay, so I see we have a few new faces here, so I’ll introduce myself. My name is Carl, and I’m a student at Savannah College of Art and Design. I’ve been a student of art all of my life, however, and I’ve been teaching painting for the past two years. Now, I don’t expect you to be Picasso,” he continued, moving around the group, oblivious to the mooning gazes of just about every girl in the room except for her and Carol. “I just want you to have fun, and if you do that, then I’ve succeeded.”

   Lucille took a sip of her drink as he spoke about their subject for the evening. Carl wanted them to paint a cityscape, one borne from their imagination or of a skyline that they loved. She thought about the assignment, for lack of a better word, ruminating on what she wanted to paint. There wasn’t an artistic bone in her body, but she picked up the pencil that sat next to the paper plate for the paint, making light sweeps as Carol worked on her own canvas. 

   “What are you thinking of?”

   The voice was right by her ear, and she jumped, seeing Carl’s face so close to her own. He was staring at the curved swoops that dotted the white material, and she faced forward again, trying to concentrate. He was a lot more attractive than she'd realized. “Paris.”

   “Ever been there?”

   “No, but I’ve always wanted to go.”

   In fact, she’d wanted to honeymoon in France, but Negan vetoed it. He wasn’t into it, so they’d gone to the Bahamas instead, spending their days on the beach, surrounded by women in bikinis and tropical drinks. Again, she should’ve spoken up and told him that wasn’t the honeymoon she wanted, but hindsight was always much clearer. “You’ve got a good base there. What colors are you going to use?”

   “I thought I’d start with shades of grey and brown-“

   “Excuse me, Carl?”

   The girl sitting directly across from her was holding up her hand, giving him a flirty smile, and he straightened up. As he rounded the corner, she smirked at Lucille, tucking her hair behind her ear, and Carol snorted next to her. “Someone wants to be teacher’s pet.”

   Lucille shrugged, pouring some black paint and adding a dash of white, swirling it around into a dark grey. Her strokes were small and hesitant as she started coloring in the Eiffel Tower, and she became lost in the task, adding more buildings before painting the sky a dark blue. A few dashes of pale yellow to the windows, and she sat back with a critical eye, glancing at Carol’s painting.

   “Wow, that’s really good.”

   Carol had done New York City, and it looked professional as hell. Of course, she’d always had a creative side, unlike Lucille. The lines were near perfect, and the landmarks were easy to recognize. 

   “Thanks, sweetie. Yours looks good, too.”

   “I agree.”

   Carl bent down between them, and she flushed red as he appraised her creation, a small smile forming on his lips as he pointed to a spot near the tower. “I’ll be living there next summer for an internship. This is making me really look forward to it.”

   “That’s amazing,” she said, feeling an ache of jealousy. He as so young, on the cusp of his adult life, and he obviously knew what he wanted out of it. It was hard not to be envious. Here she was, a grown woman with no real life experience and no clue what to do now. “You really seem to know what you want you want to do.”

   “I always have,” he agreed, brushing his hand against her shoulder as he drew it back, turning his attention to Carol’s. “Have you studied painting before> Because you’re clearly not a beginner.”

   “Oh, you know,” Carol blushed, adding a few more stars to her own night sky. “I used to take Art in college. I always enjoyed drawing the most.”

   “I can see why. You two are my star pupils tonight.”

   She heard one of the girls mutter, and the adult in her wanted to scold her for her immature attitude, but she bit her tongue, lifting her glass of wine and draining the final few swallows. At least she was old enough to drink, and Lucille started to clean up the mess, carrying her paper plate over to the garbage can that had been set up. 

   “You don’t have to do that. It’s my job.”

   The waiter took the plate from her, giving her a smile and a wink, and she walked back to her spot, unsure if he was flirting with her or just being nice. Carol had her own opinion, wigging her eyebrows as she discreetly checked the guy out. “You delicious little snack, you. Getting’ attention from every male that sees you.”

   “Oh, stop,” she poked Carol in the side, though she couldn’t help smiling a little at the compliment. She’d had men hit on her before, but not in years, and she’d never even bought into it. It hadn’t mattered to her, because the one person she wanted was already hers. So she thought.

   As they waited for their creations to dry, they had another glass of wine, watching the gaggle of young women flock around Carl, and she admired his ability to make each of them feel like he was focusing all of his attention on them. They finally shuffled out with their prints, and she and Carol took theirs out to the restaurant, perching at the bar to have one more for the road. Carol declined hers at the last minute, as she was driving. 

   For once, they didn’t talk about Negan, or what lay ahead for each of them, they just joked around, talking about their lives together and Sofia’s first dance. Lucille found herself laughing so hard that her eyes started to water, and when they left to head out, she felt like a million dollars. This night was exactly what she needed, and as she unlocked the front door to her house, she floated in on a cloud of happiness.

 

 

 

 

 

   Carol watched Lucille until she got inside, so proud of her oldest friend that she could cry. As she reversed out of the driveway, she congratulated herself on giving her a nudge back into the world where she belonged. After months of hell, there was a light at the end of the cancer tunnel, and though she was just beginning to come out of her shell, Lucille had no idea what a fucking catch she was.

   It wasn’t just the waiter in the restaurant who’d noticed her beauty. The teacher, Carl, had also gravitated towards her throughout the class, despite every other girl in there vying for his attention. He was way too young for her, but even the bartender hovered around them, and it sure as shit wasn’t for Carol. Negan was the dumbest human being alive, because he threw away the best thing to ever happen to him. He never appreciated her, and Carol prayed that he’d leave her the fuck alone. He was still trying to get her to reconcile, but so far, Lucille was staying resolute. 

   Now, she just needed to get back on the horse, even if it was for a fling, and she pulled into her designated spot, cutting the engine. As she opened the door to go in, she nearly ran headfirst into a man, shrieking in surprise. 

   “Sorry,” the guy muttered, flicking hair out of his eyes. He was probably in his late twenties, and he was wearing a pair of dirty jeans, dirty boots, and a motorcycle jacket. They traded appraising glances, and he smirked slightly before holding the door open to let her pass. 

   Carol felt like she’d been dipped in fire as she passed by him, straightening her shoulders as she moved down the hall, knowing that he was watching her, and as she turned to unlock her apartment, she could see that he was still standing at the entrance out of the corner of her eye, and her hand shook as she turned the knob, stepping inside. 

   Why did she feel so short of breath? And who _was_ that guy?

   Seconds later, she heard the sound of a motorcycle fire up, and she kicked off her shoes as the bike roared away. The guy was cute as hell, and almost the exact opposite of Ed Peletier. 

   Maybe Lucille wasn’t the only one that needed to get back out there.

 


End file.
